


Arkham

by LuthienLuinwe



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: 1800s, Ableism, Arkham Asylum, Epistolary, Gen, God Complex, Mental Illness, NO CAPES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 02:31:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16338119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: The patient shows no sign of improving.  It has been four-and-forty days since Jason Peter Todd, age 18, was admitted into the care of Arkham Asylum.  “He speaks of demons,” his mother, Sheila Haywood, had said upon dropping the boy at the door to the asylum.  “Nothing will calm him. We know not what to do with him.”





	Arkham

From the Journal of Bruce T. Wayne, M.D.

April 15, 1889.

The patient shows no sign of improving.  It has been four-and-forty days since Jason Peter Todd, age 18, was admitted into the care of Arkham Asylum.  “He speaks of demons,” his mother, Sheila Haywood, had said upon dropping the boy at the door to the asylum. “Nothing will calm him. We know not what to do with him.”    


The boy, apart from talk of demons, appears to be in good health.  His skin holds a healthy flush, and the dark circles under his eyes appear minimal.  Were it not for the occasional violent outburst, one would venture to guess that Todd is not mad in the slightest.

“He should be released,” my young apprentice, Grayson, said unto me in a moment of confidence.  “He is not mad. A religious fanatic, yes. Delusional, mayhap, but not mad.” Perhaps Grayson is correct.  However, Grayson is also naive. He knows not of the horrors held inside the minds of the patients who find themselves in my care.  They are in need of my saving hand. Truly we are a last resort for many.

“I wish to write a letter,” Todd had confided in me upon his third-and-thirty day of confinement.  Not wishing to cause a potential outburst, I permitted the boy a single leaf of paper and a blunt writing object, to be used only in the supervision of Grayson or myself.

The letter read as follows:

_ My Darling Mother, _

_ It has been three-and-thirty days since you have left me in this awful place.  They tell me I am mad. I assure them, as I assured you, that I am not. I cannot help the fact that these men are possessed by Satan himself.  I cannot help the fact that they have fallen so far from Grace. _

_ Please allow me to come home. _

_ Your Loving Son, _

_ Jason. _

It saddened me to see the boy’s false hopes sprawled out on ink and parchment.  He seems to think he will be released, even soon. Still, I believe it best to continue monitoring the boy.  I have dealt with madmen such as himself since I apprenticed under the now retired Alfred Pennyworth, M.D.. I know it not wise to release him to the general public when his condition can deteriorate at any moment.

It would not have done well for the letter to have been sent.  Against the wishes of my young apprentice, I saw the parchment burned in mine own private fireplace.  “It will do his mental state poorly if he believes he is ever to return home.”

“And why should he not return home?” Grayson had questioned.  I must remind myself to maintain my demeanor around the boy. After all, it was not long ago that I too was a young apprentice who questioned any and all decisions made by my mentor.  Boys are foolish, as boys are wont to be, after all.

“You know as well as I that madness worsens over time,” I reminded the boy, perhaps now a man at the age of two-and-twenty.  “His condition will worsen over time, not improve. It is irresponsible and unwise to release him to the streets.”

The boy had dropped the argument, even if he had not wanted to.  That much was evident in the fire that remained in his eyes even until this day.  Eventually the fire will burn out, as it does with all young men in this profession.  There is no need for passion. There is no need for care. One learns to distance themselves from the patients they treat.

It is the only way.

Still, Todd is fascinating.  His obsession with demons and demonic possession is matched by none.  Indeed, it appears as though the boy believes everyone to be consorting with Satan himself.  “Wayne is possessed by the devil,” I have overheard him muttering on more than one occasion when passing by his cell. 

If anything is to be said for the boy, his health is resilient.  I have observed men stronger than he weaken in the walls of this fine institution.  Perhaps he is stronger than I give him credit to be. Perhaps, as Grayson had observed, the boy is more sane than he lets on to be.

There are few things more dangerous than a calculating madman.

I must remember to take note to observe Todd more closely and to handle him more carefully.

One can never be too careful in this field.

Grayson has not yet learned this, though it is my hope that he shall soon.  He becomes far too close to the patients, and I fear that it will one day become his undoing.  There is no room for compassion in a field such as this.

We must observe our patients as subjects to be studied and tended to, nothing more.

“They are terrified,” Grayson said unto me after I was forced to reprimand the boy for indulging Todd in one of his delusions.  “The least we can do is make them less afraid.”

“Our job is not to bring them comfort,” I reminded him.  One day he would learn that. Perhaps another profession would have been kinder to the boy.  Only the strong survive when it comes to dealing with the mad. 

“Well it should be part of it,” Grayson had huffed.  I dismissed him for the day shortly after. Clearly the stress of the job was beginning to work its deadly tendrils into the boy’s mind.  He would learn to handle his stress as I have in due time. Do we not all start out as eager young lads wanting to save the world?

I shall see to it that Pennyworth observes Todd throughout the night.  Other patients have complained of his ramblings of demonic presences in the Asylum.

It is my hope that his madness does not escalate into something dangerous.

Let it be marked eternally in this journal that I shall do everything in my power to prevent such a tragedy from occurring.


End file.
